


When worlds collide.

by Clarimonde



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Crossover, Din is a Templar, Gen, Lyrium Addiction, Lyrium Withdrawal, M/M, Magic, No Beta, On the Run, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rating May Change, The AU in which Corin is the Inquisitor, baby yoda is an elf
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-26
Updated: 2020-09-29
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:28:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25530601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Clarimonde/pseuds/Clarimonde
Summary: When Corin escapes from the Circle tower and goes on the run with the tiny elf child now in his care he knows they will send someone to hunt him down. He doesn't expect what he finds in the man tasked with bringing them in and none of them expect the war or the giant hole in the sky. With the help of some interesting new friends can the two men overcome their backgrounds, fall in love, and save the world?
Relationships: Baby Yoda & The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV), Baby Yoda (The Mandalorian TV) & Corin the Stormtrooper (Rescue and Regret), Corin the Stormtrooper (Rescue and Regret)/The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV), Dorian Pavus/Cullen Rutherford
Comments: 13
Kudos: 41





	1. Chapter one.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LadyIrina](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyIrina/gifts).



> I love playing with my Mandorin AUs but this is my first Dragon Age fic so please go easy on me if there are mistakes. This will be dark in places but there will be fluff and eventual smut. Please heed the tags as they change. Main pairing is still Corin and Din but there will be plenty of Cullrian to come as I adore those two.  
> Unsure who Corin is? He's the awesome OC who now has his own devoted fanbase, he is totally the creation of the wonderful LadyIrina so please check out her works.

The early morning breeze brought the scent of the ocean into the little herb garden. Somewhere, beyond the high confining walls of the Circle tower and its environs, the Waking Sea broke against Ferelden’s northern shore. Corin enjoyed letting his mind wander as worked through the dawn, out there the sea was a source of comfort. He liked to imagine the little fishing villages dotting the coast, peopled with those who knew only a simple life of family and honest labour. He liked to think about the ships and their passengers, their destinations too. He had been on a ship once, before the Circle. It had carried him away from his home and family. From everything he had known. How wonderful would it be to choose your own journey or even just to sail about forever? The whole of Thedas would be there to explore, not just read about in the dull books the library provided. He could have been an explorer, or a navy captain, or even a pirate. Objectively Corin knew that as the sole heir to a noble estate that he could have been none of those things and at twenty-six years of age he should be well past the point of dreaming about what he would grow to become. He didn’t much care. His daydreams were the only part of his life that were truly private and his only source of escape from a life of imprisonment. 

Over by the door to the main building, Ser Morgan shuffled his feet in his usual attempt to banish the lingering threads of sleep from his system. The junior Templar was more often than not given the dawn watch and as no one was up through choice as early as Corin he tended to accompany him to the gardens. Mages were not supposed to be anywhere without supervision, even just tending to the herbs was apparently an activity rife with the ever-present threat of possession. Their morning routine was a fixture by now. Morgan would meet Corin near to his quarters with two steaming mugs of tea to keep their hands warm and they would walk in silence to the gardens. Morgan would mind their drinks while Corin began his morning exercises. None of the mages were expected to work out and none but Corin ever did, the typical picture of a circle mage as pallid, soft, and bookish was almost always accurate after all. Corin knew he was an oddity but he didn’t much care what his colleagues thought, luckily the Templars ignored his quirks too. The activity involved no magic and they reasoned it came in handy for completing his chores in the gardens. His predecessor had constantly bothered the healers when he had pulled something digging or even weeding. As long as Morgan was on duty the Knight Commander was content to let Corin have his hour of exertion, particularly as the rest of the time he was the very model of a well-behaved docile mage.   
“I’ve told you before, keep your back straight and bring your knees up more.”  
Corin looked over at Morgan who was standing closer now, sipping his tea as he looked up at Corin. Pullups were one of the hardest parts of his routine and the tree branch he had chosen to use was high up enough to make it a real challenge. Morgan liked to give advice and was very particular about Corin’s posture. The younger man trained with the other Templars and liked to pass on any pointers. He never corrected him physically but his eyes followed the movements of Corin’s muscles and he never failed to offer advice. They didn’t really speak otherwise but Corin had always found his presence soothing. The other Templars seemed to look right through him but Morgan seemed to see him as a person, if they were mostly silent in each other’s company it was a comfortable silence. 

Exercises complete for the day they finished their tea and Corin reviewed his mental task list. There were no classes to attend today but he had a full afternoon planned with the herbalist to prepare for. He let his mind wander back to the sea as he gathered up the needed herbs. The potions they brewed would end up all over Thedas, providing a substantial income for the Circle. Corin didn’t much care about that but he liked to think about the merchants awaiting their cargo in cities he would never see. Morgan had begun to patrol the perimeter, nodding as he passed by. It was a peaceful way to spend a morning and if this was to be the rest of his life, he supposed it could be worse. 

Anna was already at work when he arrived at the potion lab after lunch. The tranquil didn’t look up as he took his leather apron down from it’s hook and fished his gloves out of the pocket. Heavy mage robes would provide adequate protection from whatever they were working on but Corin wore them as little as possible. He much preferred a simple tunic and breeches to stuffy robes which he reserved for more formal occasions. His fellow mages were used to his strange ways by now but newcomers to the Circle often confused him with the servants. The Templars were just grateful that at least one of their charges had never started a fight or been caught hiding alcohol or a fellow mage in their room. If they were all as well behaved as Corin the Circle would pretty much run itself.   
“Good afternoon Anna.”  
“Good afternoon Corin. Enchanter Derris left a note for you.”  
Anna indicated the little roll of parchment on the workbench and resumed cutting up a dragonthorn root. Corin took the note and unrolled it, frowning slightly as he read over the instructions.   
“He needs sleeping potions suitable for a small child and quite a large quantity too. I wonder why?”  
Anna made no answer, the tranquil would offer advice if she was certain of something as a fact but never speculated. Corin remembered her as a young mage. A firecracker of a girl with wild red hair and flashing blue eyes, she had pushed and challenged her instructors at every step but in the end had been deemed too unstable to attempt her harrowing. He still felt the sorrow as he thought back to that morning some years ago when he come down to breakfast and saw her sitting there in silence, hair neatly braided and the light gone from her eyes. He had fled back to his room in shock and wept for her loss until the Knight Commander himself came to speak to him and remind him that this was the way it had to be.  
“Mages are dangerous boy, all that unrestrained emotion and excitement running loose needs to be controlled. If a mage cannot master their own self then it falls to us to do it for them, you do understand don’t you Corin?”  
And he had, he understood well enough to stop crying and hide his pain. To bottle up his feelings and make himself as meek as possible while trying to appear as little like a mage as he could. He kept his head down and they allowed his little eccentricities while keeping the shell of the person who had once been his friend in his constant view.   
The potions took a few hours to brew but they were done in time to be bottled up before dinner. Anna assisted with pouring them into the little glass vials, her hands were more delicate than his, and Corin cast a simple frost charm onto the packing crate as he was unsure how long they would need to last. The note had said to bring them as soon as possible to the eastern cellar but surely there was some mistake there? The rest of the consignments they sent out went to the quartermaster so it seemed that these were not destined to leave the Circle but why would anyone here need potions for a young child? The youngest recruit currently in residence was seven and they had never had one younger than six. This potion was specifically for children three and under. He picked up the crate and nodded a polite farewell to Anna. There was no one he could ask and he knew well enough by now that curiosity was not something the Circle encouraged. 

The stairwell down to the cellar was freezing cold, as was the long passage that seemed to have been carved from the sheer rock below the main building. Corin had only been down there a couple of times before to help the kitchen hands carry something up from storage and he had hated the long ill lit corridor that always had musty smelling puddles soaking up from somewhere. It had fallen out of use altogether a couple of years ago after a ferocious storm had led to the whole chamber flooding and the loss of various supplies. He couldn’t imagine why he had been summoned here; it must be some kind of mistake. His footsteps echoed off the narrow walls and as he approached the cellar door a figure detached itself from the deeper shadows beyond the torchlight and waved him forward.   
“Bring the box in and put it on the workbench.”  
The man wore a cloak with a hood pulled low but Corin caught a glimpse of leather and buckles beneath it. His accent was not one he had heard before. The man opened the door and allowed Corin to pass him before taking up a guard position in the entryway. Enchanter Derris stood on the far side of the room deep in conversation with two people that Corin had never seen before. The workbench was off to the side and he eyed the group curiously as he made his way over with his delivery. Derris turned around and looked at him. Corin’s blood turned to ice in his veins, there was something horribly predatory in that look. Derris was not an especially nice man, arrogant and quick to anger but he had never looked at Corin that way before. He generally behaved as though Corin was beneath his notice, he wished he still was.  
“Ah Corin, good of you to finally grace us with your presence. As you can see, I have guests who have travelled a long way to be here and we have a great deal to do. Put the box down and leave us.”  
Corin opened his mouth to say something but was cut off by one of the odd group, a woman wearing the most ornate set of mage robes he had ever seen. She had dark skin and hair and wore a great deal of gold jewellery.  
“Maybe you should let him stay Derris? We need a volunteer after all.”   
She had the same accent as the man in the doorway, combined with her looks he wondered if they were from Tevinter. He had never met anyone from there but everyone had heard the stories. The third member of the group turned to stare at Corin. He looked a bit like a Templar but the armour was strange, full plate metal but more richly adorned with jewel bright colours than was typical. This one said nothing but took a step towards Corin as though to restrain him. As he stepped away from the group Corin could see that what he had thought was a table was actually a bed from the infirmary and on the bed was a tiny terrified looking elf child. Huge dark eyes looked imploringly at him and the ice in Corin’s blood turned to red hot fury as he saw the tiny child was restrained and gagged. An ornate dagger lay on the bed near the maybe Tevinter woman’s hand. Before anyone could take another step the man from the doorway called over to them and the group took up a neutral stance once more. Derris gestured for Corin to leave and he found himself backing away in horror.  
“No need, it appears our volunteer is already here and we only need one. Corin here will forget everything he has seen in any case, isn’t that right? Or do you have more in common with your old friend Anna than I thought?”

Corin couldn’t think, the threat was clear and who would believe him anyway? They obviously didn’t intend to hurt the child if they had needed the sleeping potions but his brain wasn’t having anything to do with his desperate attempts at logic just now. He nodded shakily and turned to leave but collided with the familiar form of Ser Morgan. A rush of relief swept over him as he stumbled from the room. Morgan was a good man, a kind man. He would never allow a child to be harmed. Corin heard the cellar door slam shut as he hurried away up the passage but before he made it to the stairs he heard the scream. A man, terrified and in pain, Morgan. There was nothing he could do; he didn’t even have his staff but maybe he could find help?

The great hall was abuzz with gossip as the inhabitants of the Circle prepared for the evening. Enchanter Derris had secured a visit from a delegation from Tevinter and they were expected at a grand feast hosted by the First Enchanter and the Knight Commander. Everyone knew about them; how many knew about what they were doing in the cellar? There was no one he could risk approaching about this and the only man he considered a friend was at their mercy. He went out into the deserted garden to think, turning the problem over and over. The whole time hearing his friend scream. There was only one plan. It was foolish and would probably lead to his death but Derris had been very explicit in his threats, Corin knew not to trust the man. It was only a matter of time before he was up on some trumped-up charge and made tranquil or worse. 

There was no sign of Anna in the potions lab and he didn’t know if the hurt would be worse for him if he left with or without a goodbye. Anna would feel nothing anyway, they had taken that from her. He filled a backpack with useful looking vials and a small pouch and headed off to his room. He grabbed his sturdy frost staff, and a few changes of clothes before pulling on his warmest cloak and then took a deep breath before opening the pouch. He made a pretty good vanishing dust for rogues; the stuff was always in high demand so there was often a batch waiting to be packed up and he had filled the pouch with it. He had tested it before to make sure it worked and was pleased to see as he let a fine dusting of it settle over him that it was as potent as he remembered. His custom blend also deadened sound and he made sure his boots were covered too. As ready as he was ever going to be, he stepped out into the corridor and made his way to the great hall. Keeping to the shadows he peeked inside and saw the Tevinter group sat at the head table, Derris at their side looking very pleased with himself. Corin made for the stairs and with his heart thumping in his ears crept his way down to the cellar. 

He stood by the door for a moment, straining to hear anything on the other side but it was silent. The door was thankfully unlocked and swung inwards without a sound. Corin padded into the room, alert for any sign of danger. There were no wards he could detect, nothing to stop him entering, were they really so arrogant or did they know they could not be touched? The bed was empty, the restraints open but blood dotted the mattress. Somehow he knew what he would see when he looked down. On the floor behind the bed was Morgan. His friend’s sightless eyes stared at the ceiling; his blood pooled on the floor. The ornate dagger that had killed him had slipped between the plates of his armour and into his heart. Corin closed his eyes and placed a kiss on his forehead, too deep in shock to cry.  
“May the Maker take you my friend and may there one day be justice for your death. Rest now in peace.”  
Corin straightened up and looked around, where was the child? The only other furniture in the room was the workbench, his potions still sat where he had left them but there was also a larger packing crate beside it now. Heart in his mouth he crossed the room and peered down into it. Something eased in him a little as he saw the little one unharmed but deeply sleeping. A notebook sat on the bench and he flicked through it curiously, maybe it contained the answer to this horrific mystery? It was full of words in a language he didn’t know but judging by the diagrams it looked like research notes and possibly ritual instructions. He slipped it into his bag and turned back to the child. The elf was curled up in a blanket and didn’t stir as Corin picked him up and tucked him under his cloak. He paused just long enough for another dusting of vanishing powder before hurrying up the passageway and heading back for the gardens. 

Night had fallen and the air was freezing as Corin crossed the garden to his favourite tree. The child stirred beneath his cloak but was still asleep as he took him out and fashioned the blanket he was wrapped in into a sling. Thankfully the long brown robe would help keep the tiny elf moderately warm as he secured him against his chest. It was awkward work with his staff and bag across his back but he thanked the Maker that he had spent so many years building his muscles as he swung himself up into the tree. A memory of Morgan looking up at him while sipping tea threatened to overwhelm him for a moment but he pulled himself together and continued to climb. The tree towered over the wall and Corin was soon high enough to sit astride the stones looking over. He couldn’t see much in the dark but he knew there was open countryside beyond. If he cast anything to ease his fall it would quickly be detected and he needed as much of a head start as he could get so he lowered himself by his finger tips and with a quick prayer let go. He landed with a thump on soft grass, mercifully unharmed. At his chest the child stirred and huge dark eyes peeked up at him in the moonlight.   
“Shhh little one, you’re safe now. Can you keep quiet while we get away from here?”  
The child gave a solemn nod at odds with one so young and Corin adjusted his belongings and began to walk quickly away from his only home. They would send people after him, probably Templars, to bring him back or just kill him. He needed to be as far away as possible before he was missed. They could track him with his phylactery but that wasn’t the worst they could do, if he had really bad luck they would send the dreaded mage hunter.


	2. Chapter two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Corin heads deeper into Ferelden and begins to bond with the child.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still mostly Mandorin at this point but hang in there, this is a shorter chapter to begin to get them closer to Haven where the real story begins.

Good luck prevailed for a time and allowed Corin and the child to find passage on a worryingly dilapidated fishing vessel heading to a small port in northern Ferelden. So many years spent daydreaming of escape on the high seas had made it an automatic reaction to head for the coast. Good luck allowed him to pass himself off as a simple alchemist when they explored the little harbour town they had made it to after two days on the run. The lack of Circle mage robes and bag full of potions leant his cover story some credence. An afternoon spent in a back-alley inn trading what potions he could afford to spare earned enough coin to purchase some supplies and pay for the cheapest passage across the ocean. He felt no unease at essentially selling stolen goods, he and Anna had brewed these potions using ingredients Corin had grown himself. Why should he not profit from his own hard work for a change and use the proceeds towards freedom? The child perched on his lap watching the bartering with interest and a happy little coo whenever someone stopped to chat. The bar was also an excellent place to pick up local gossip and none of it involved a runaway mage. Hopefully that was more good luck but if the Circle were keeping it deliberately quiet then it could be very bad luck and the sooner they were away the better. 

Bad luck began to make itself known as they ventured deeper into Ferelden. The weather grew colder as they travelled further south and they were regularly soaked by freezing rain that came almost without warning. It was a sensible decision to avoid the main roads but that also meant that they had only what shelter the wilderness could afford them and Corin didn’t dare light a fire at night if there was any chance it could be seen. 

The child put up with the conditions without much complaint and indeed seemed genuinely fascinated with their surroundings. Corin had quickly learned not to take his eyes off the little one as the child could move like lightning for one so small and would cheerfully put nearly anything in his mouth. Trying to make the very smug looking elf spit out a small frog was not one of his proudest moments and although Corin would admit he knew almost nothing about childcare he was sure they shouldn’t eat random wildlife. The child seemed to disagree. Another thing had had no idea about was child development, the little one could walk but not talk and Corin had no idea if that was normal or a result of whatever upbringing he had experienced before his rescue. Had he had a loving family at some point? There was no way to tell unless there was anything hidden in the notebook that he couldn’t translate. Corin had deliberately not named the child for the same reason and one day maybe someone could discover what secrets the book held. 

There was something comforting about the child’s presence. The terror of capture was never far away and it should have rightly added to his stress levels to be suddenly responsible for the tiny boy. Instead it gave him a much needed diversion as he learned games to keep the little one entertained as they trudged along or comforted him as they sought shelter from the freezing storms. By their third week on the run Corin didn’t think he could ever be parted from the child and he was fairly sure it was mutual. His focus was no longer just on escaping but on finding somewhere to build a life for the two of them where the kid could grow up in safety. 

The cave was one of the more hospitable places they had taken shelter in. Corin had checked it over for wildlife and found it happily free of local bears or those giant spiders they occasionally saw signs of. There were signs of something smaller, possibly nugs, but nothing dangerous. It was even possible to light a small fire for a change as the back of the cave had something resembling a natural chimney. Corin took full advantage of the warmth to dry out their spare clothing and heat up the child’s blanket a little.   
“When I was little, just a bit older than you, I used to love escaping off into the woods. It used to make my father so angry when he had to send the servants out looking for me. Once I managed to find a cave a bit like this one and spent all night just curled up in the entrance looking up at the stars.”  
The child looked up as though he could see the night sky through the stone above their heads before giving a mournful coo.  
“It’s too wet out tonight, the clouds would hide anything interesting but how about next time we have clear skies I show you some of the constellations? Someone once told me there is even a dragon up there.”  
This seemed to pacify the little one and not for the first time Corin marvelled that despite his lack of speech he seemed to understand what was said.   
“Right, bedtime I think, we have another long day of exploring ahead of us and I need my beauty sleep.”  
The child giggled and curled up into his toasty blanket. Corin curled protectively by his side and the two were soon softly snoring as the fire burned down low.

Birdsong woke Corin at dawn and he was immediately delighted that the persistent patter of raindrops had finally ceased. Dry clothing, a good night’s sleep, and hopefully a little sunshine all pointed to a happy day ahead. Maybe he could even pretend for a while that they were simply a father and his son out exploring nature instead of two fugitives in fear of their lives. The child was still snoozing, only his pointed ears poking out of the blanket, so Corin decided to head out quickly to take a look at their surroundings in daylight. At the mouth of the cave he paused, something made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. He could still hear the birds, if there was a predator nearby he would have expected silence. He listened for a moment, no voices, no snapping branches, nothing to indicate danger. Cautiously he took a few steps outside and looked around him. Nothing.

“Hello Corin.”  
He turned, dread coiling in the pit of his stomach. A man had appeared as if from nowhere and now stood watching him from the mouth of the cave. Corin stared in horror as the man cocked his head to one side with the air of a predator deciding whether to toy with him or just kill him. The man was lean but powerfully built and maybe an inch or so shorter than Corin. A tiny part of his brain pointed out that the man was also very handsome but deep brown eyes and golden skin meant little other than something beautiful to look at in his final moments.   
“The order would prefer you alive so unless you plan on doing something foolish I see no reason why I can’t bring you in warm. Are you going to be foolish Corin? You don’t appear to have your staff with you so trying to fight this would be very foolish indeed.”  
The man spoke in a low calm tone, perfectly reasonable and just slightly bored. He was right, Corin had left his staff in the cave. It was propped up with his bag by the sleeping child. His eyes flickered to the cave entrance; he couldn’t risk alerting this man to the child’s presence but he couldn’t leave him behind without protection. The man caught the slight movement and drew his weapon, Corin expected a sword like the Templars from the circle. This man had a lightweight crossbow, a hunter’s weapon. His armour was different too, mostly leather with strategic metal plates attached. Nothing like the heavy plate Morgan had worn. The thought of his friend snapped him out of his shock and fury flooded his veins. He prepared to throw up a barrier as the man raised his bow and aimed for Corin’s heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the cliffhanger, hopefully it won't be too long for the next chapter.   
> The mage templar war begins and causes issues, Cullen boards a ship, and Corin finds out why the child is important.   
> Din sighs a lot.  
> As ever, keep yourselves safe and please send me your comments or kudos. They really do keep me going.


	3. Chapter three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Baby intervenes and Corin is marched back towards his fate. Things begin to unravel when they stop for supplies and why is the hunter staring at him?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for canon typical violence here.

Unfocused magic itched through Corin’s veins as he tried to mould the spell without his staff to aid his control. A simple barrier was usually something he could cast with ease but the fear made it hard to concentrate on anything other than the hunter’s finger on the crossbow trigger and anger pulled his preferred ice magic into the mix. Caught between a shield and a projectile the magic threatened to freeze Corin’s hands solid if he couldn’t get a grip on it but the tension in the other man’s wrist made it clear that he was out of time. 

Suddenly the weapon jerked to the side as a bolt embedded itself in a tree trunk a foot to the right of Corin’s chest. He tried to process what had happened, the dreaded mage hunter had missed but it had seemed as though something had almost yanked the weapon away from its target. Corin felt a tiny hand on his leg and both men looked down simultaneously at the little elf grinning up at them both. Corin dropped into a crouch and tried to pull the child behind him but the little one just patted his cheek and smiled at him before walking over to the confused hunter.   
“You took a hostage?”  
The child had reached the Templar before Corin could move to stop him and to the surprise of both men he began to make grabby hands as though he wanted to be picked up. That couldn’t be right, surely? They had spent weeks on the run from the Circle and whatever horrors they sent after them and now faced with the worst outcome possible the child was acting as though he had found a long lost friend. Slowly, as though not to spook the little one, the mage hunter bent to pick him up and curled him against his chest, glaring at Corin as though somehow this was all his fault.   
“If not a hostage then what? A sacrifice?”  
“Of course not, I would never harm a child.”  
“They all say something like that. You took him and you ran, you murdered one of my brothers for your ritual and then ran like a coward when you were cornered.”  
“That is what they told you?”  
“They told me only what I need to know, that you are a danger to anyone who comes across you and that you killed a Templar, bled him out and used his blood for Maker knows what. You will be taken back to the Circle for judgement.”  
“And the child?”  
“They did not mention a child, he will be taken back too so that he can be cared for properly.”  
The little elf made a rather affronted sound and lightly smacked the man’s chest plate with a pudgy hand.  
“I think he disagrees with you about his care.”  
Corin felt something close to hysteria threatening to break free as he thought about handing the child back to his tormentors.  
“His care is not your concern.”  
“Look please just listen to me, you can take me back if that is what you have to do but please don’t take him with us. I ran to keep him safe. I can’t expect you to believe me but there was a ritual and they were hurting the child; I don’t know why they want him but I can’t let you take him back to them. I promised him he would be safe, they killed my friend, he was a good kind man and they killed him.”  
His voice broke into a sob, he couldn’t bring himself to say Morgan’s name, not in front of this man. The child looked between the two men and gave a worried chirp as the tension stretched taut. The hunter finally sighed, a deep heartfelt thing of longsuffering resignation.  
“Get your things, we have a long way to go. Make any attempt to cast and I’ll smite you.”

The next few days passed in a tense silence broken only by the little elf babbling in excitement as he toddled about. He seemed quite delighted to have the hunter marching along with them, not fazed in the slightest by the looks he kept giving Corin. The man walked a couple of steps behind them, one hand casually resting on the crossbow at his hip. Corin could feel his eyes on the back of his neck but whenever he looked around the man dropped his gaze. He felt a blush crawl up his neck and across his cheeks before focussing all of his attention on the child foraging ahead of them in some bushes. The hunter was only watching him because he was his guard, the man clearly despised him. They had barely spoken two words since leaving the cave and that didn’t look about to change anytime soon. 

Towards the middle of the fifth day they spotted what looked like a farmstead in the distance. Since they had already been captured it made sense to travel through the hinterlands by road instead of forging through the wilderness but this was the first dwelling they had seen so far. The hunter stopped them walking and gestured for Corin to come close.  
“We are going to call in at the farm and see if we can pick up some fresh supplies. The kid could do with some milk and I’ve traded here before. Keep quiet and don’t try anything. If you behave, we can eat something other than rations tonight, don’t behave…”  
He didn’t need to finish that sentence. Corin nodded, resigned to being viewed by this man as a dangerous criminal. The hunter nodded, gave him an odd look, and waved them onwards.   
Corin couldn’t put his finger on what was wrong but something made his skin crawl as they approached the farm gate. The hunter behind him must have felt something too as he seemed suddenly hyper aware, his crossbow in one hand. Corin didn’t quite dare reach for his staff but he picked up the child and shushed him as he fastened him into his carry sling. The little one must have sensed something too as he made himself as small as possible, his long ears drooping in fear. 

They came across the first body in the yard. Corin draped his cloak over the child to shield him from the horrific sight of a farmhand skewered to the cowshed door with a sword through his chest. The man looked to have taken a severe beating before he died but judging by the amount of blood at his feet, he had been alive when impaled. A second body was curled up on the floor inside the building. This one had been beaten to death and although his features were unrecognisable, he seemed younger than the other. Corin had the horrible mental image of a father trying to protect his son and had to swallow down the sudden bile.  
“Bandits?”  
“Could be, the man there is Thomas the cowman. Him and Lester the farmer are former soldiers, hard to see bandits doing this.”  
“Maybe a lot of bandits?”  
“No sign of a large group though, we need to look around. Keep quiet and keep your staff ready.”  
Corin tried not to think about what could have unnerved the hunter enough to consider arming a captive mage, probably not bandits then.

They crept through the eerily silent farmyard with no further sign of bloodshed. Ahead of them the path split, one way led towards the farmhouse, the other towards the barn. The hunter stopped as though considering something when a scream came from the direction of the barn. They broke into a run as three armoured figures emerged from the barn door and smoke began to drift up from the roof. As the figures came closer they could see the distinctive Templar insignia and surcoats. They smiled lazily, ignoring the rising screams from behind them.   
“Brothers, what is this?”  
Corin had never heard the hunter sound so uncertain but he could hardly blame him.   
“Well met brother. We have been hunting down rebel mages without success so far. Looks like you caught one though. Shall we put him to the flames with those Maker damned sympathisers?”  
The hunter pushed Corin behind him.  
“You plan to burn the family alive in there? Let them out now you fools. This is madness.”  
“Madness is thinking we could ever contain the mages. They need to be put down and anyone who tries to help them.”  
Corin readied a barrier spell but most of his focus was on the fire. They needed to act quickly to save whoever was in there. The hunter took a step forward as the three Templars drew their swords. The hunter was outnumbered but there was no real choice. Corin threw a barrier over the three of them and began to cast a blizzard spell over the barn roof, modifying it a little to send torrents of freezing rain pouring onto the thatch. The hunter drew the Templars away from the door allowing Corin to slip inside. Trying his best not to panic and ignoring the sounds of battle from outside he pulled his cloak over his mouth and nose and began to push through the smoke to find the family. Another barrier kept the worst of the smoke away but he couldn’t hold it for long while still summoning the rain. They were tied to a support beam in the middle of the floor, the two young children still screaming while their mother tried to comfort them. The farmer, Lester, wrestled with the ropes binding him. A nearby hand axe served to sever Lester’s bonds and he immediately began to help freeing his family. They were all half suffocated by now and clung to each other as they staggered to the entrance. Dragging fresh air into their lungs they took in the sight before them. The hunter had taken out two of the Templars but was clearly wounded. His leg had buckled where a dagger had been thrust below the knee but he still had the strength to hold the remaining Templar back with a short sword. The hunter tried to keep himself between the Templar and the others but the warrior laughed at his efforts and raised his greatsword for a killing blow. Corin raised his staff and without much conscious thought hit the Templar with a huge bolt of ice freezing him solid. The hunter fired his bow, shattering the man into icy chunks. Lester’s kids cheered the display but fell silent as the hunter pitched forwards into the dirt.

Cullen added boats to the list of things he didn’t much like. The fresh sea air was pleasant enough but the rocking and swaying did little to help his ever present nausea. The tiny cramped cabin was even worse, no air, no light, he couldn’t breath in there. He ignored the cold and the biting frozen sea spray that soaked his clothes, and spent all of his time on deck. Cassandra had looked askance at him when he had declined to eat or sleep below but thankfully hadn’t pushed the issue. He already had enough to prove and she had given him the means to begin making amends. If he caught cold it was nothing less than he felt he deserved and nothing he couldn’t power through. The boat lurched and he took a few deep breaths to steady himself, at least one good thing about this boat was it was carrying him away from Kirkwall and into something, anything better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cullen is finally on his way but there will be at least one more chapter before they arrive at Haven so please bear with me.   
> Will Din ever tell Corin his name?   
> A truce forms as they learn about the war breaking out but Din begins to struggle.
> 
> hopefully you are enjoying this crossover as much as I am loving writing it. Feel free to drop me a comment or kudos, it really means a lot.


	4. Chapter four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Corin lends a hand while Din recovers from his injury. Din has more questions than answers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Din POV for this chapter, I do like to switch things up a bit.   
> Din struggles with his feelings and the aftermath of the Templar attack.   
> A shorter chapter than planned but work has been super stressful and I didn't want to leave things too long so I've split this part up, hopefully it is still ok.

If this was death then somewhere along the way, Din had been lied to. The Chantry spoke of a place at the Maker’s side, eternal peace, and long-lost loved ones. Dark swirling nausea seemed a pretty poor reward for a life of devoted service. There were voices but they remained distant, trying to bring them closer hurt too much to sustain any effort. Time passed; the darkness receded a little. One of the voices seemed closer, Miriam. The farmers wife. That was good, she was still alive. The apostate must have saved her.   
“Hush … lost .. lot of blood. Friend …safe here.”  
That didn’t make sense. Din had no friends. Did she mean Lester? They were hardly friends but the thought was nice. He slipped back into the dark again.   
Something cold on his head. He had a head? That was a good sign. No more voices but an odd coo from somewhere close by. He had heard that sound before. Something small and warm curled into his side. He felt safe.

A sharp herbal smell pricked his senses and he woke with a start. The fight came rushing back, the Templars, the apostate. He was supposed to bring the apostate to the Templars. There was a child. Nothing made sense. The apostate would have run, he had to find him. That was his calling, the only thing he had ever been good for.  
“Calm yourself now, we are all as safe as can be expected thanks to you and Corin but you are hardly out of the woods yet.”  
He was still too dizzy to sit up but he cracked open an eye and found Miriam sat by his bed with a bowl of bandages in her hands. The child was fast asleep on his chest, at least the apostate had left him when he ran.  
“He didn’t want to leave you while you slept, your friend neither. I think he drained himself getting us out of the fire and then he insisted on tending to your wounds himself. He’d be more comfortable in a bed but it seemed a pity to wake him after he passed out there.”  
“Who?”  
Miriam looked worried by Din’s confusion. She gestured to his other side and with an effort he turned his head. The mage slept in a chair, still in his soot stained clothes. The skin on his hands was covered in burns, angry red blisters creeping up his exposed forearms.   
“He didn’t run.”  
Miriam looked at him thoughtfully.  
“No, he stayed. Maybe I read this wrong, maybe you two didn’t come here as friends but you could do far worse I think. Get some rest. No telling what tomorrow will bring.”

When Din woke the next day both the mage and the child were nowhere to be seen but the man’s staff and backpack sat by the bed. It made no sense, why hadn’t the apostate run? Surely he knew that this changed nothing? Din was still duty bound to bring him back to the Templars. Templars like the ones who had attacked them, stabbed him in the leg and left him to bleed out. And then the mage had healed him. Maybe he had hit his head?  
The bedroom door opened and Din tensed but it was only Miriam carrying a breakfast tray. The child scampered along behind her looking hopefully between Din and the tray.   
“Well good to see you looking more awake, this little one will be relieved. We had to lure him away from your side with food in the end.”  
“He is ok?”  
“As ok as a child can be after something like that, my own have barely stopped crying but at least we are all alive to cry, poor Thomas and his lad …”  
She stifled a sob and sat heavily in the chair; the tray placed safely on Din’s lap.   
“Whatever did they do to deserve that? How could Templars behave that way?”  
“I’m sorry Miriam, nothing about this makes sense.”  
“No. Lester and Corin finished building them a pyre earlier, my husband is heading for Redcliffe soon to fetch the guard.”  
“You are not worried about another attack with him gone?”  
“There is no one else to send, Corin has offered to stand guard once he leaves.”  
“You trust a runaway mage to guard your family?”  
“Yes.” Miriam snapped. “That mage risked his own skin to save my family while your Templars brought bloody murder down on us. His magic is the only reason you still have a leg and he only healed his own wounds this morning when the little one here saw them and cried.”  
There was nothing else to say to that.   
“Eat your breakfast before the child steals it and I will let Corin know you are awake.” Her earlier sharpness softened and she squeezed his hand before leaving him alone with the child.

Din shared the oatmeal with the little one, the child watching him with his big dark eyes as though he could understand that Din’s whole world had tipped upside down. He pushed the tray to the side of the bed and settled down to think. The child watched silently for a time before he patted his face and toddled out of the room. The hunter had always been of the opinion that rest was for dead, his body disagreed and no closer to any answers, he dozed off again. 

If this was the afterlife then someone had a sick sense of humour. Din was not naïve enough to think that all Templars were saints but this was all wrong. Admittedly Din had spent very little time with his brethren in recent years, he was always hunting, always on the move, but this was madness. Templars did not run around murdering innocent farmers regardless of who they were hunting. He had no very strong opinions on mages beyond believing they should be contained for their own good but to have one play the hero? Just when he thought his current troubles were enough, life decided to add a fresh layer to his misery. 

Corin walked through the bedroom door and stopped short when he saw Din was awake. His tunic and leathers were gone, Miriam had probably taken them to be cleaned. Din’s eyes widened as he took in the mages form dressed only in a pair of linen britches and still damp from bathing. He had a towel draped over his bare shoulders but rivulets of water followed the cut of his muscles across a perfectly chiselled torso and onwards, down to the deep v of his abdomen before thankfully the britches allowed Din to keep a little of his sanity. Din had never been interested in what a mage kept under their robes but he had hunted and restrained enough of them over the years to know that they were generally skinny weak creatures. Corin looked as though he could easily match Din for strength if they sparred hand to hand. That thought did nothing to quell the blood rushing south and he screwed his eyes shut and hoped the man would take a hint. Of course he didn’t. The mage flopped down into the chair by the bed, absentmindedly towelling his dark hair and giving Din the strangest look. Relief sparkled in bright blue eyes, tension tightened the line of his jaw. He bit his lower lip nervously. The man was at war with himself, it made Din feel dizzy again.   
“How are you feeling?” Corin spoke quietly, he had rather a pleasant voice, one Din could happily listen to for hours as he lay in bed. He mentally slapped himself, was this the blood loss or some side effect of the mages healing?   
“I’m fine, don’t fuss.”  
“That was a pretty nasty wound.”  
“Part of the job, I’ve had worse.”  
“Part of your job is fighting off Templars?” Corin raised an eyebrow.  
Ah, there it was. The druffalo in the room. Din had no explanation and even if he did, he had no particular wish to discuss the matter with a dangerous apostate, not even if said apostate had apparently saved his life. Pain flickered like lightning across his forehead and behind his eyes. Corin sighed and got up from his chair, the hunter tried to watch his steps but a fresh burst of pain forced his eyes closed. He heard rummaging and then the man was back by his side.  
“Here, sip this. My supplies are a little low but there should be enough left to help with the pain for another day or two.”  
Strong hands lifted him up from the pillow and he drank down the potion, wincing at the sharp taste of elfroot. The pain began to dull and although he tried to fight it, he fell into a fitful sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Corin POV next time as Din takes a turn for the worse and we finally find some answers. The child complicates matters.
> 
> As ever, if you enjoyed please leave kudos or drop me a comment. Comments really are treasured and power me through the next chapter.
> 
> We are almost at Haven now so for those of you still waiting, this gets more recognisably Dragon Age soon, while of course being no less Mandorin

**Author's Note:**

> Corin makes his way south and struggles with childcare. The hunter draws near. 
> 
> Please let me know what you think so far, all comments and kudos are treasured.


End file.
